


Call of the Ocean

by piggybackride (mssileas)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Junkfish!AU, M/M, Rescue, minor warning for blood/injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 19:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssileas/pseuds/piggybackride
Summary: A storm washes up somethingverycurious - and potentially dangerous.





	Call of the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Yoo-hoo!
> 
> Hello guys, welcome to Gigi's Junkfish Edition, because at some point it had to happen. 
> 
> This is based upon a bit of brainstorming with [troijandarts](https://troijandarts.tumblr.com/post/184149109970/some-junkfish-sketches-of-mine), who draws an absolutely lovely Junkfish :) And then I tweaked it a bit and now we're here. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Mako sighs heavily when he looks over the destruction the storm last night has left behind on the beach. Debris is cluttering the sand, waves crash against stranded boats that have been ripped free from their binds, against driftwood and straight up trash. It’s gonna take days to clean all of this up again, but the villagers know how to come together after such devastating events. 

Right now Mako is looking for survivors. Not humans, the storm wasn’t that severe. But sometimes animals get stranded, pets run away and get lost in fear when thunder and howling winds shake the air, or wildlife gets pulled into the water. So Mako walks slowly, as to not miss anything. He lifts planks of wood and plastic planes just to make sure nothing is stuck under them. The most valuable thing he finds though is not an animal, but a watch - it doesn’t work anymore, but there’s something engraved on it so somebody might miss it - and a very soggy wallet. He’ll try to find some form of ID in it later and return it to its rightful owner. 

It’s the suddenly changing wind that carries a faint noise to Mako. The fisherman frowns - it’s not a sound he immediately recognizes. He moves closer towards it. It reminds him of the whine of an animal, but it sounds distorted in a way he has never heard before. There’s a distinctly human quality to it that unsettles Mako so much he can feel a shudder run down his back, because a human would have screamed. For help, for a name, for anything. But this voice is just _wailing_.

The beach strip makes a rather harsh turn, leading to a small bay that is barely accessible for people. It’s more like a pool of rocks, and the waves break here with so much force it can knock grown men off their feet. The rock itself rough and jagged, even under water, and every wrong movement scrapes off skin. It’s home to crabs and little fish and other small ocean critters, since humans rarely disturb them here. 

Mako hears that strange, disturbing wail again, but it takes a moment for him to see where it’s coming from exactly between the sun gleaming off the wet rock and the movement of the foaming waves. When he finally does, he almost loses his balance from shock, having to reach out to catch himself. The jagged surface cuts painfully into the palm of his hand, but the biting sensation makes Mako aware of how much he isn’t imagining things. 

Trapped in a shallow pool he lays eyes on a creature unlike any other, a creature so odd it should by all rights be in a fairy tale book - not out in the real world, under the rising sun, washed ashore like a common jellyfish. 

Its torso is decidedly human. Pale, almost translucent skin spreads over a flat chest and a thin belly - but then it leads to a fully grown fish tail from its waist down. Bright yellow and orange, speckled with black dots. _Poisonous_ , something immediately hisses in the back of his mind in reaction to the alerting colors. Nothing in the sea that wears such bright decorations is safe to handle. There’s a large gash in the tail, Mako assumes it’s from when the creature got pulled across the reef by waves and their currents. It doesn’t bleed a lot - not anymore, at least - but it explains why it can’t seem to escape by its own strength. Every wave with just a little more force knocks it back into the small pool within the rocks, and the despair in its wailing voice grows with every failed attempt. 

It doesn’t help that it only has one healthy arm as well, Mako soon notices. At least that injury doesn’t seem fresh, but one webbed hand can never gain enough of a grip on the wet surfaces to pull the creature back into the ocean - it barely has the strength left for a proper attempt anyway. 

Mako hasn’t even begun to understand what he sees in front of him, and only believes it to be true because the piercing shrieks hurt his ears too much for this to be a dream or a figment of his imagination, bringing something to life his great-grandfather had told him about. All throughout Mako’s childhood the old man had told him stories about the Other Folks. Creatures that lived in the water, in the air, in the very earth beneath their feet - close to humans, and still not anything like them. Peaceful, sometimes tricky spirits that had a knack for mischief of all sorts, and yet fled the cruelty and viciousness of men, hiding further and further away from them. 

He had told Mako all about it, much to the dismay of his mother, who had to put up with years of a young Mako insisting he’d become an explorer and find all the tree spirits and earth sprites and merfolk from those tales to show them _he_ wasn’t a threat at least. That went on well until his teen years, until it became too odd for even his most imaginative peers, and Mako stopped talking about it. Talking, not believing, though adult life has a habit of keeping one too busy to indulge in ideas of life beyond what we know and what the books say exist.

Still, he has to bite his cheek so hard he tastes blood to be sure he’s not making this up. It’s too early in the day for a heat stroke, and with his cheek throbbing and his ears ringing from the grating noise the creature makes, he inches forward on the slippery, jagged rock. He tries to imagine what would happen if anyone else had come along first and discovered the humanoid fish – or is it a pescetarian human? Who knows. Better if no one discovers the creature here to try and figure out that distinction. 

Because if Mako knows one thing about the majority of people, it’s that they would react to this unbelievable sight in only two possible ways. Capture it or kill it. Or kill it by accident while trying to capture it. Mako wants neither of these things. Sure he’s curious in his heart. He can’t imagine where such a creature would have been able to hide from humans, and with it most likely a whole family, maybe even a clan. A community. Who else would it be crying out for? Mako notices it’s even wearing some sort of necklace - it’s either a sign of decoration or belonging, but either way it shows it’s not alone out there, wherever it came from. 

It’s so vulnerable out here too, injured and weak, hopelessly stranded, and Mako assumes that the ever rising sun is not a friend to the pale alien species. It’s so lost in its distress, it hasn’t even noticed Mako yet, it’s so preoccupied with trying to overcome the rocks and the waves towards the open ocean, crying for help that won’t reach it here. It doesn’t seem to be aware that the noise might attract anything other than its own kind, either, and that’s what concerns Mako most.

The fisherman has to move carefully. Not only are the rocks under his feet slippery, the waves come crashing in with enough force to knock even a man of his size off balance if he doesn’t pay attention. He’s not gonna be a help to anyone or anything if he gets knocked out himself first. It’s difficult to maneuver his size and weight across the stony reef - in some places its jagged edges jut out from the water surface and he has to climb over them, before they fall again rather steep and he wades carefully across the hollows under water. The eye plays tricks on the mind when determining the depth and distance of something below water, so he moves forward at a snail's speed, carefully testing his next step before placing any weight on his foot. He’s wet all the way to his hips and belly, but Mako has lived his entire life either at the ocean or right on it with his boat, lulled to sleep by the soft sway of calm waves, or fighting against what had to be storms sent straight from hell, determined to crush him like a nut shell. What’s being a little wet to him?

Of course his presence doesn’t stay unnoticed for long. The creature’s voice has become hoarse and strained, but when it notices Mako’s movement, it suddenly goes very quiet. Mako finds its face almost more curious than the whole rest of it. 

Thin, pale skin stretches over sharp features, so taught that Mako can see every bone and every edge to it. Its eyes are huge, especially compared to humans. Since it lacks regular eyelids, they are only covered by a protective, see-through membrane that cloud its pupils. It looks blind like this, but Mako knows better than to assume that. The creature stares at him for a second, tense and breathing heavily - and then its mouth splits open way further than it should be able to, to reveal at least two impressive rows of razor sharp teeth. It’s trembling now, whether from panic or alert, Mako cannot say, maybe both, but it attempts to straighten up as much as it can now. 

Mako makes another step, and it snaps like an angered snake. It hisses at him, furiously, and there’s an unmistakably threatening growl reverberating in its throat. When that doesn’t make the human stop coming closer, it tries the same thing again - but this time, it makes the fins on either side of its neck stand on end, and to be fair, all of it, the teeth, the creepy eyes, the weird neck-fins, does look actively discouraging. But Mako came here on a mission. 

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”, he tells it, slowly, calmly. There’s no need to rush. “I’m just going to get you out of your misery, right? So, be a nice… fish… boy… whatever, and this will be over in no time.” He’s maybe ten, fifteen steps away now, and by now the creature is obviously panicking. It tries to break off pieces of rock to throw at Mako and keep him away, but it just cuts its hand trying to do that. It backs off as much as the little pool of water its trapped in allows it, but that is mere inches, and then it’s stuck again. All the while Mako moves steady, following all the rules he knows from other wildlife. Don’t stare at it but keep it within your range of vision, adapt a confident but reassuring body posture - easier said than done when you’re wading through rumbling waves - and talk to it in a low, soothing voice all the while. 

It’s not so much about what he says, because he’s sure the fishboy - he’s gonna come up with a better name for it later, Mako tells himself - doesn’t understand him anyway. It has now stopped hissing at him, and it’s also not wailing anymore. Instead it makes those high-pitched, short sounds that make Mako flinch initially. It’s either an alarm or its last desperate attempt to cry for help. Maybe both. 

“It’s alright. I know you’re scared. That’s fine, I’m a little scared too, I mean that’s some really impressive teeth you have there, you know, and if you could please turn out not to be poisonous, I’d be very grateful. But we’ll find out about that, won’t we?” Mako says, always calm, always in the same, monotone voice. He’s pretty sure the creature would have attacked any other human by now if they were in his place - but once he climbs on the edge of the rock pool, it does seem intimidated by his huge, bulky form. Or wary, at least, not quite sure if it would come out victorious of a fight. Mako’s convinced he’d still get a pretty good feel of that mouth full of needle teeth if he’s too pushy now. 

So he stops before he’s cornered it completely and forces it into an attack that would only injure them equally, and not actually help anyone. It’s still hissing at it sharply through its short breaths, torn between keeping up the tension to at least appear threatening, and obvious instinct to crouch and hide. If it could slip into the cracks between the rocks, Mako is sure it would do so in a heartbeat. There’s not enough space for it to escape to anywhere, though, all that fits through the cracks are the crabs and - 

On an instinct Mako grabs the little critter from the rock. That sudden shift in his focus eases the wariness of the creature somewhat, if only minimally, but it watches as Mako cracks open the shell to pull out the white flesh. Still, the fishboy makes no attempt to grab the piece of food Mako offers on its outstretched palm. It studies him more closely now though, he thinks. Mako can only imagine how equally strange he most look to it. 

Round and broad where the fishboy is as sleek and athletic as he could be, with a chubby face and tiny eyes that would need to blink ever so often, heaving his body weight around on land with the help of two legs. Mako doesn’t have teeth or fins or warning colors to look intimidating, only his size, and once that phenomenon wore off the creature had to see that he posed no real threat for now. It still doesn’t trust him, though, so Mako does the only thing he can think of, and pops the crab meat into his own mouth. It’s mostly salty and slimy and he swallows it without thinking too much about it. 

“What, you’re not hungry? Must’ve been here for a while, sure you’re starving, huh,” Mako rambles on in his deep, steady voice while looking out for another snack in a shell. This time, the creature does make a curious sound when Mako cracks it open, watching him with a cocked head before his lips split into something that might just be a grin. It’s still not taking the offering. 

Instead, it suddenly reaches down into the pool, and pulls forth a crab that’s easily triple the size of Mako’s prey, almost as big as the palm of its hand, rips off the claws - and then it just shoves it into his mouth. Its jaws are obviously forceful, Mako can see them working like a mill, and the shell cracks and crunches between the sharp, sturdy teeth. It eats the claws last, licking its lips when it’s done. So it obviously doesn’t need Mako’s help feeding itself, but thank God he ate raw crab, right? Mako can’t help but laugh about that - and finally, that’s a sound that seems to relax the creature a bit. 

It still needs Mako’s help though in other ways, but it doesn’t need the human to tell it that, either. In fact, Mako is pretty sure the fishboy is trying to communicate with him now, at least judging by the grating, high pitched sounds coming from its mouth. Or its throat, rather. It’s difficult to determine. But it’s pointing at itself and then Mako and then the ocean behind the rocks, emphasizing with gestures more and more the longer it thinks Mako needs to catch on. 

In truth, the fisherman is just too surprised for a moment. On first glance, he saw an animal, even despite its humanoid features. Feral and reacting purely on instinct, like a mountain cat trapped in a wire fence - even if you helped it, it probably wouldn’t be grateful, but it was the right thing to do. Now it slowly dawns on him that not only is the alien creature way more self-aware than that, but also it most likely thinks Mako is the less intelligent species with how it exaggerates all its movements. Mako is pretty sure that whatever communication it attempts, it’s extra loud and drawn out for him. Like people who didn’t understand that loud and slow does not help others to understand a language that’s unfamiliar to them, but sometimes it’s all you got. If Mako were trapped in a cave underwater, and a dolphin swam by to curiously inspect him and maybe, if he could get it to do so naturally, help him escape - that’s what the creature must feel about him right now. A chance encounter with land’s wildlife. 

It’s such an odd sensation that it takes Mako a moment to let that sink in, before he finally takes a deep breath. Fine. He’ll be the dolphin sidekick then. 

“Right, we’ll get you out of here. Come on,” he mumbles, and finally steps close enough to touch the fishboy. Its skin feels relatively normal, though a lot cooler than would be healthy for a human. The cackling sound in its throat is probably something like laughter, the same way humans do when a friendly animal touches them, or in this case, lets them wrap their arms around their necks to be carried off. There’s still a rest of nervousness in its sharp-clawed grip, but that’s to be expected.  
The tail now, that’s a different matter. It’s not only slippery, covered by a sheen of some kind of moisture - _Poison!_ , his brain screams louder this time, but Mako dutifully ignores that - but it is also weirdly muscular and heavier than Mako expected. Up this close and staring right into his face, the huge, honey-colored eyes are straight up terrifying. 

“Okay, let’s do this.” It’s more a pep talk to himself, and he’s gonna need it. Here in the pool everything is treacherously peaceful. As if you could sit there and relax forever, with the sun shining on you and an occasional wave spilling over the rocks, adding fresh water that then just as quickly flows back and away. There is nothing peaceful about the ocean behind that pool. As soon as they make it over the ledge, the waves once again come crashing into them - the first has Mako stumble back as it hits him all the way up to his hip, threatening to knock him off balance with that added weight now. The creature shrieks when it gets hit by the next wave, because as long as Mako is carrying it in his arms, it’s always gonna take the brunt of the hit. And there’s not as much strength in its grip as Mako would like, just desperation. He’d like for this to be over without those claws digging into his flesh for leverage. 

“Different technique - hold on,” he coughs. He thought about making it all the way back to the beach, and carry it over to a better accessible spot on land. But the sun is rising higher and higher, which means they don’t have that kind of time before people will show up.  
So they’ll take the direct route, just in another manner. 

Mako turns, so his back is turned towards the open ocean. It was more difficult to move that way, every step had to be taken even more carefully than before - but it also made the waves break against his wide back, and the water didn’t splash up in his face so much. One time he does slip, only to catch himself with already cut hand. It’s bleeding immediately again, and he’s pretty sure his knee isn’t gonna be too happy about this maneuver either at the end of the day, but he keeps lifting himself up and pushing forwards. Or backwards, in this case. 

The creature’s noises could mean anything between worry, support, excitement or fear by now. Mako doesn’t know anymore and he can’t focus on it. He just keeps walking into the ocean, bracing himself against the force of the waves that come rolling in, even if it means reaching out for leverage with his already injured hand. The higher the water around him rises, the more agitated the fishboy becomes, obviously impatient to finally escape this precarious situation and be off to swim to his fish friends again. 

Alright then. There’s nowhere farther to go now anyway, so Mako takes a deep breath and waits for the next wave - then he dives. The fish creature wants to wriggle out of his grasp immediately, but that’s probably just what pulled it to the shore in the first place. They need to go deeper, much deeper than it looks like they’d have to, and so Mako grabs it by its healthy arm and tugs, pointing down towards the ground.  
Wherever the creature might come from, it’s certainly not close to any shore, or else it’d know that. 

Now Mako guides it, first down, and then forward into the ocean, under the currents that’d just flush them back - in the worst case against some of those rocks, and then who will come and save them _both_? There is a distinct feeling of relief once they’re into clear, calm waters that comes over both of them, and the fish creature makes a joyful sound as Mako finally frees it from his grip - but this time there is nothing shrill or grating about it. Under water the sound spreads with the soft resonance of a windchime, but more drawn-out, more ethereal in the silence of the ocean. Down here the noise makes sense even to Mako’s ears. 

It’s his lungs that don’t find any purpose in his adventure anymore. He’s not supposed to strain them in the first place, and by now they’re positively burning up. His head starts to hurt, and he starts to swim up towards the surface, but something is grabbing his foot. 

He tries not to panic, he knows panicking only makes the oxygen deprivation worse, but when he looks down the fishboy has his webbed claws dug into his pants and the flesh beneath them, grinning up at Mako with that too wide mouth and staring at him with its too big eyes. Mako makes a distressed, choked noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t seem to phase it at all. So this is how it’s going to end after all? He rescues the creature from the cruel fangs of his own species, only to get drowned and devoured for a meal. Seems unfair. 

The creature has other plans though. It comes up to be face to face with the man, before it pulls its necklace off and carefully slides it over Mako’s head. He’s pretty sure he’d be touched, if his vision wasn’t starting to go blurry and all he could see was the eerie, alien face as a webbed hand carefully, very curiously touches his cheek - then it finally lets go of him. 

Mako can barely see it take off, not quite as sleek and elegant as you’d suspect due to its injury and the limited left-over strength it still has. He just darts up, so quickly he’s afraid for a second his ears are gonna pop, but then again, that’s better than dying, right?

The first lungful of fresh air feels like the gift of rebirth. Mako drifts on his back for a second, trying to get his breathing under control. He reaches for the necklace to inspect it further - and finds his arm is being way too heavy. There’s also a numb tingle spreading in the fingers of his injured hand, and he doesn’t think that the edges of clouds should be quite that fuzzy…

He can’t help the exhausted laughter that escapes his throat. He fucking knew it. “Damn poison fish…”

Mako paddles himself to the sand shore very carefully. He doesn’t wanna risk cramping but he needs to get there before he’ll eventually go unconscious. With no idea how his condition will change over the next few minutes, he’s playing a dangerous game of balance here, but that seems to be the theme of the day anyway. 

By the time he finally stumbles ashore his legs feel like jelly. Upside might as well be downside, and why the hell is there so much spit in his mouth… where does it all even come from, Mako wonders…  
Great, there’s people coming now… They’re gonna see him drool all over himself like an idiot… but maybe - maybe he’ll just lie down. Face down. That’s good, then they can’t see… and maybe if he lays here in the sun for a while the shivering will stop… what a good plan. Very good… plan…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading!
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but obviously it has outgrown itself. Comments are deeply appreciated and then we'll see where this journey is gonna take us from here. 
> 
> You can also come visit me on [tumblr](https://piggyofoz.tumblr.com/)! (NSFW tumblr version [here](https://piggyofoz-nsfw.tumblr.com/)) - now also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mssileas)!


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